her love of color
mutating either side
to her swank appeal
to marveling eyes
but only one
Dragon of Good Fortune
rising
where rainbows prism peaks
of clashing cascades
stretching thru the unseen
towards the distant
smile of the Sun
to buss Lower Heaven
and clasp their spirits
as Bouquet of Southern Sea
her own shadow
her own reflection
her own light
to follow
whose last cinder of breath
will fall into dream
o’er brink of the World
a caravan
of seemingly diverse chatter
but spellbinding
to our sanity
with wondrous reverie
be the fog
thicker
the sidewalks
more uneven
our thoughts
often lost in thought
yet whenever I feel
the lifelines
of thy fragile hand
with mine
‘tis yesterday’s light
I behold
in that fairest of faces
loujen haxm'Yor 